


Seek (Like a Shark)

by Hammocker



Series: Pure Oswald/Victor Works [6]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: A game of cat and mouse, Anal Sex, Animalistic Behavior, Betaed, Chasing, Explicit Sexual Content, Hide and Seek, Hunting, Industrial Setting, M/M, Or more aptly of shark and penguin, Rimming, Rough Sex, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7049515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oswald wants to know exactly what it's like to be hunted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seek (Like a Shark)

**Author's Note:**

> It gets very lonely writing these two. Seems to have dropped off the map in favor of OC stuff lately. Ah, well, can't complain too much; that's just how it goes.

Oswald had an itch. It had been weighing on his mind for quite some time. He didn’t go out with Victor to watch him deal with targets often, but one occasion stuck in his mind. Some poor lieutenant of a gang that needed knocking down had found himself cornered in his own base. He and Victor had killed the guards with no problem, but their boss was not where he was supposed to have been. Victor had gotten a look about him, like a shark that had smelled blood. He’d navigated the place’s rooms with purpose, though, not too quickly. Always giving the impression that he knew exactly where he was going. Oswald might have. And when he did find the lieutenant, cowering under a desk, one could have cut the exhilaration he gave off with a knife. That moment when Victor struck...

Oswald had wanted to have been at the receiving end. 

Of course, that wasn’t a very practical idea. The encounter had ended with a few minutes of struggling and screaming and a good pint of blood. Still, he wanted the rush, wanted the emotions associated with it. Wanted to feel like a piece of prey under Victor’s gaze. It had been a thought in the back of his mind long enough for him to have a plan in mind and finally it was becoming too much to hold back. He was sat with Victor in the manor's kitchen, sipping at a cup of tea when he finally found it in himself to ask.

“I'd like you to do something for me, Victor,” Oswald began.

Victor lifted his head away from the emptied cup of cherry yogurt he'd been licking at, giving Oswald an attentive stare.

“Later this evening, I'm going to hide,” Oswald explained slowly. “I want you to track me and catch me.”

“Why?” Victor asked, tongue flicking out to pull in a fleck of yogurt. “You're not a mark.”

Oswald rolled his half-lidded eyes. Victor was obedient, certainly, but he never hesitated to ask the most insufferably pragmatic of questions.

“Think of it as practice,” he offered.

“I don't need practice,” Victor pointed out, blinking quizzically.

“Then just think of it as fun,” Oswald said, giving him a forced smile.

Victor stared at him for a few moments before nodding. 

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting somewhere on dock eight after midnight tonight. Do you think you can find me?”

“Of course I can.”

“Excellent. I expect you won’t take long then.” Oswald hesitated before adding, “And when you catch me, I want you to have me.”

Victor gave him a blank stare.

“As in sex?” he asked, completely guileless.

“No, as in have me for lunch,” Oswald deadpanned, rubbing at the side of his head. 

“Oh,” Victor said, scrunching his brow with confusion.

“Yes, sex!” Oswald barked. “And don't be gentle”

The pieces finally seemed to be coming together in Victor’s head as his mouth turned up in a toothy smile.

“I can do that. And not do that.”

“Wonderful,” Oswald said, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. Explaining some things to Victor was like walking in circles, tedious and full of reiteration. But then he could hardly complain. Victor did good work when he knew what he was supposed to do. Now it was just a matter of letting his anticipation build.

*****

Dock seven, much like all of the docks on Gotham’s harbor, was a run down little area, almost entirely made of concrete and gravel. The smell of saltwater hung in the air like mist and much of the ground was heavily damp, amplifying oncoming footsteps along with Oswald’s own. A warehouse loomed over it, many of its walls covered in incomprehensible graffiti and crumbled chunks of concrete and discarded garbage lay on the ground here and there. Aside from the sounds of his own movement and distant waves, the place was quiet. Most of the workmen had gone home for the night, leaving only sparse patrols to look out for potential scrappers. Oswald had no fear of being caught in any case. Anyone who worked the docks knew exactly who he was and exactly why it was unwise to question his presence. He did worry, however, about whether or not anyone would see them during the running and sex portions of this little game. Of course, anyone who did would likely end up on the receiving end of a nasty bump on the head, courtesy of Victor Zsasz.

Oswald made his way across the dock towards the warehouse. He had dressed properly for the occasion, wearing only a simple shirt, semi-casual black pants, and matching sneakers that could have passed at a dinner party if necessary. He slid open the warehouse’s door and peered inside. Crates, ropes, and canisters lay abandoned for the night, overlooking the large, open room. Towards the back Oswald spotted pipework snaking along the floors and walls up to the ceiling. He stepped inside and slid the door back just so it remained ajar. Safety lights dotted the walls and hung from the catwalk above, allowing him just enough vision to find his way around without risk of killing himself via tripping or hitting his head. That would be a wonderful way to completely ruin the night’s fun.

He made his way towards the back of the room, glancing up and down at the massive amount of pipes winding up and down the wall. Some thin, some thick, some brass, some aluminum. Perhaps they led somewhere, perhaps not. Oswald figured it might be worth his time to follow them. Maybe he’d find a hiding spot. It wouldn’t be long before Victor arrived, after all.

The stairway led down into a claustrophobic chamber, pipes snaking all around the walls and ceilings and creating two parallel hallways outside of a slightly wider chamber. On one side a bulbous boiler sat, hissing just slightly, on the other a table and some foldout chairs were tucked up against the pipes as well. Someone had made a boiler room into a break room, perhaps.

The humidity of the place had Oswald sweating already, but he wasn’t inclined to head back upstairs. He could hide down here. Maybe it wasn’t the cleverest nor best place to hide in the warehouse, but it gave him an escape route. With the three separate hallways, no matter which direction Victor came from, Oswald had somewhere to run, even if it only led them in circles. It would take a lot for Victor to corner him on his own.

Oswald made his way down one of the side halls to the very back of the room. There was plenty of space to run in one direction or the opposite if he needed to. Not much wiggle room, but he wouldn’t need much for this game. The only goal was to get away from Victor; he didn’t need to be graceful doing it.

He picked a spot far down the hall and allowed himself to slip to the floor, taking in a deep breath. It felt like his lungs were full of as much water vapor as they were oxygen. His sweating had cause a couple locks of his hair to stick to his forehead. Not to mention that the anticipation that came with just being there had given him a halfhearted erection. It was little more than a distraction as he had no intent to spend himself before they started. Not even being hunted yet and he was already discombobulated. That was just his luck, wasn’t it? Still, he wouldn’t risk moving then. It was just about time for Victor to show up and start looking for him.

And so he waited. And waited. And waited some more. He hadn’t worn a watch and he’d left his phone at home so he couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but he found himself growing annoyed. What could possibly be taking Victor so long? He thought Victor was supposed to be good at tracking his targets. He knew Victor was good at tracking his targets, in fact, so what was the problem? 

Oswald’s eyes fluttered shut several times before staying closed. The heat and humidity and time left him tired. Any arousal had faded with impatience. He could have fallen asleep there just fine. He might have needed to even, if this was going to take a while. Being an effective king required a decent amount of sleep between working with local gangs and on his own projects. Maybe just a nap while he waited.

Then the first thud came, echoing through the pipework. Oswald jumped to attention, any inkling of sleep ripped from him. Something had smacked against the pipes, something heavy. After that, he heard footsteps, quieter than the initial bang, but loud enough to project through the hallways.

Oswald’s chest tightened up and he could feel his heart start to pound. He was half-hard again as his nerves lit up in apprehension. He got to his feet as silently as possible, glancing down towards the end of the hall. Oswald couldn’t see anything, but he could hear Zsasz padding down into the chamber, the echoes growing closer, but slowly, always slowly. 

With his vision obstructed, Oswald could almost imagine that it wasn’t Victor searching for him. That it was some kind of animal with sharp teeth and claws that could rip him to shreds in an instant. A monster with a sheer primal urge to kill. Oswald held his breath and began edging towards the boiler. He suddenly needed very much to be close to the only exit.

Every one of his movements was as silent as he could manage. Getting even a foot down the hall was a feat in itself then. And as he moved, his ears soon discerned that what he had thought to be more of the boiler’s hissing was, in fact, heavy breathing. Long, deep breaths as though whatever was making them was tasting the air, looking for a scent to follow. Zsasz was standing in the very center of the chamber, if the sudden lack of footsteps was any indication. Listening, planning, waiting for Oswald to make a mistake maybe. He must have known Oswald was there, somehow or another. If Oswald had to guess, he’d say Zsasz had smelled him lurking down in the boiler room. It would fit in well with all his other tendencies.

Oswald passed by the boiler with care to avoid touching it. So much as a tap on its hollow body would give him away. As he reached the its opposite side, he dared to glance towards the breathing and found himself privy to a narrow visual channel through the pipework. From where he stood, he could make out Zsasz’s naked back and neck tilted upward, like something on the ceiling had caught his attention. His muscles were tensed, his arms drawn up and ready to grab or tear if necessary. Black fabric hung loose around his waist so he couldn’t have been completely nude, at least. Oswald was almost disappointed seeing that small detail.

Oswald shuffled along more hastily then, praying he could get up and out of the room before Zsasz had his sights on him. The closer he came to the door, the harder he shook and the more difficult it was to control his motions. He stepped out into the open, taking the risk of being seen should Zsasz so much as glance about. Almost there. Then, as he hurried to get up the stairs, his shaky legs betrayed him. He misjudged where to put his feet, slipped from the first step, and collapsed to his knees with a thump. Only reaching out to grip a nearby pipe kept him from bashing his face in.

He heard a growl from behind and Oswald couldn’t keep from looking back at Zsasz. Their eyes met for just a second and Oswald’s heart stopped. He wasn’t looking at his Victor, strange, yet playful and even sweet; he was looking at the face of a predator. A killing machine that had its sights set intently on him. Oswald scrambled to his feet and bolted.

He ran up the stairs quickly as his feet could carry him, using the wall for leverage where he could. Somehow his bad leg didn’t ache nearly as much when his heart was racing and adrenaline was coursing through his veins. As much danger as he perceived in the situation, Oswald felt fitter than he had in over a year. He could have knocked a man twice his size off his feet just trying to get away.

Even with wind in his ears, Oswald could hear Victor stomping after him. Options ran through Oswald’s head; outrunning Victor was as unlikely as successfully hiding from him once again. He wasn’t in any mood to slow down, not when he was so mobile. There weren’t many places to go, he found as he reached the top of the stairs. Behind a row of crates, up the catwalk, or towards the door. The door would be too obvious and potentially end the game sooner if they were noticed and the crates could easily end up being a dead-end. Catwalk it was then.

He made a clean break for the stairway up, never once daring to look back. The sound of Zsasz in hot pursuit kept him going just fine. The winding stairs were a bit rickety and very loud, but they weren’t collapsing under him so he couldn’t complain. He’d dealt with worse than collapsing bridges anyway.

As he approached the walkway proper, however, Zsasz seemed to be slowing down. Was he tiring? Definitely not; he had enough stamina to chase Oswald down three times over. Oswald took the chance of peeking back at Zsasz and found him trailing behind, giving the metal steps wary glances. Maybe he didn’t trust the walkway to hold. Or maybe he just didn’t like heights. That was a funny thought. The turf gave Oswald an advantage in any case.

He got up onto the catwalk above the warehouse’s crates and turned around to back off until he was just about in the very middle. Zsasz was only just reaching the final steps up. He still held a predatory gaze on Oswald, but he was much less certain of his feet. A shrill creak triggered by his movements had him gripping both guard rails and using those to haul himself forward a foot or two. 

Oswald took the opportunity to grip the railing and use his weight to rock the loose walkway back and forth. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to disturb Victor’s approach. He stopped dead in his tracks and glared at Oswald, no longer a purely predatory expression. A mix of anger, hunger, and a hint of fear all read on his face. Oswald couldn’t help the smug smile that came over his face. He’d been scared out of his wits and now Zsasz refused to even walk towards him. He felt accomplished. That was a mistake.

Faster than he could blink, Zsasz was bounding towards him. Each fast, but heavy step shook the walkway so hard that Oswald was really afraid it might collapse beneath them. For just a few seconds, it was like staring down a train in a tunnel. 

He turned and ran for the second time, but they were rapidly running out of catwalk. Another set of steps were coming up. Hopefully that would force Zsasz to slow down.

Using the safety rails as leverage, Oswald hopped down the steps, skipping three or four at a time. He could practically feel Zsasz breathing just behind him until he turned the corner onto the second well. There the heavy rattling stopped, but Oswald wasn’t in any position to slow down. Even so he had to feel relieved. If Zsasz wasn’t directly behind him that couldn’t be bad. Maybe he could still- 

All at once an enormous weight of muscle and skin landed practically on top of him. He was knocked off his feet and sent tumbling down the steps, all with an extra cumbersome body following him and preventing him from righting himself. That moment was a blur of gnashing teeth in his face and blunt nails raking down his shoulders, back, and arms. More than once, his middle and upper legs knocked hard against the steps and their guard railings. Oswald couldn’t stop the pained yelps that escaped his throat, but they were drowned out by Zsasz’s snapping and snarling. His heart could have beaten out of his chest, he was so scared.

They landed on the concrete floor with a thud. Oswald was left lying on his front, as Victor had let go of him and tumbled a few feet away. He floundered to get to his feet, sliding and pulling himself forward with effort. His adrenaline was running low and he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer. A sideways glance reminded him that they were right near the still ajar door leading outside. Taking in a strained breath, Oswald scrabbled his way towards it, just barely managing to stand fully.

As he might have anticipated, however, he only managed a few steps before he was, quite literally, sprung upon again. Zsasz jumped upon his back, forcing him to collapse again. He squirmed against Zsasz as best he could, but only found his arms and waist pinned seconds later. Worn out, immobile, and completely vulnerable, Oswald’s chest tightened up as he anticipated Zsasz’s next move.

Teeth sank into Oswald’s neck, just skimming his jugular. Oswald’s mouth gaped open in a silent scream and in that moment, he truly believed Victor might just bite down and take a chunk out of him. It was a shock to his system. It was thrilling.

But it didn’t happen. For the best, of course. Zsasz drew back after just a few seconds of “biting” Oswald. At worst, he had left a few indents.

“I want to devour you,” Zsasz growled against his ear. He hadn’t spoken once before then and Oswald almost wished he never had. Something very dark had entered his usual terse manner of speaking. Something equal parts exciting and terrifying.

It was all he would say, thank God. 

The hands pinning him disappeared so that Victor could hook a thumb around his waistband and tugged his pants down until they crumpled at his knees. Oswald swallowed and made an effort to bury his face against his forearms. Despite his initiation and approval of their present scenario, a niggling voice in the back of his head reminded him of how degrading and unsuitable all this was for someone of his status. How he shouldn’t have been allowing his own assassin, someone who should have been decidedly below him on the pecking order, to dominate him like this. Even if it was just play, it was bad form. Bad taste. But who cared about that? Not Victor, that much was certain.

He heard Victor hum with approval and shuffle around as he reorganized himself. Hands rubbed down his calves, and hot breath just below the small of his back alerted him to what was about to happen.

He’d grown accustomed to Victor’s lack of shame, his strange idiosyncrasies, but he still felt a twinge of humiliation when Victor pushed his face against his perineum. Oswald’s jaw gaped open and he gave a throaty whine as Victor mouthed at his balls and his very erect cock, never applying too much pressure, but allowing saliva to drip all over. It was a subtle, almost tickly sensation, having the thick fluid flowing downward to mix with precum. Nonetheless, it and Victor’s uncoordinated attentions served to keep him on edge. He wasn’t so gentle that Oswald could relax, but never was the stimulation enough to bring him any closer to orgasm. It could have very easily been torturous were Victor to extend it. Fortunately, he was merciful in this instance.

Victor closed off with a plainly salacious lick right over Oswald’s asshole. He vocally shuddered then, glancing back to see Victor rising up to re-position himself behind Oswald once more. He didn’t have the clearest view, but it wasn’t hard to discern that Victor was reaching into one of his pockets to pull something out. Oswald couldn’t help but smile a bit. The bloodthirsty monster that had been chasing him had been carrying lube the entire time. How considerate.

Even so, Victor wasted little time getting his fingers coated in slick and abruptly pressing a single digit into him. Oswald felt his shoulders tense up, much as he tried to keep relaxed. They’d done this however many times, but he still couldn’t quite get over that initial discomfort of being penetrated. It stung, not badly, but enough. Or it did, until Victor managed to brush at those nerve endings he’d gotten so good at tracking down.

Oswald let out a cry that bordered on pathetic. It felt good, but once again, he wanted more, more, more, and he wanted it immediately.

“Victor, please-”

As soon as he opened his mouth, Victor gripped Oswald’s thigh with his free hand and dug his nails in, shooting him that hungry glare he’d used during their chase. Oswald clenched his teeth against the pain; that was going to leave marks. But the message was clear enough: you’re the game, I’m the hunter, shut up. Oswald could appreciate that. In fact, he might have been appreciating it a little too much.

Victor wasted very little time preparing him. A second finger entered him, but only for just a moment. Both were pulled out within a second and Victor was re-positioning himself so he loomed behind Oswald once again.

Oswald gritted his teeth as he felt the blunt head of Victor’s cock pressing insistently against his entrance. He had half a mind to fight the intrusion, but he had the distinct sense that he’d only be put in more pain then. Drawing in a harsh breath, Oswald willed himself to relax as Victor worked his way in.

As he pushed farther and farther, Victor bore down on Oswald, bringing his upper half down over Oswald’s back. By the time he was all the way in, he practically smothered Oswald. A harsh rumble that could have been either a growl or a purr echoed in his ear, and Victor braced himself against the concrete, bracketing and trapping Oswald’s form at the same time.

Victor started off with heavy, shallow thrusts, seemingly unwilling to move too far out of Oswald. It wasn’t very much, but it was comforting on some level. He was trapped there and at Victor’s mercy, but at the same time, he was protected from anything outside of them. Victor served as both predator and barrier. Skirting the line of extreme danger and total safety.

Just as it was about to overstay its welcome, however, Victor pulled back an inch and started pounding in and out. He wasn’t going too fast, but every snap of his hips drew a yelp from Oswald. Victor never seemed to consider or even acknowledge his reactions, only his own whim. He was brushing up against Oswald’s prostate just as he always did, but it no longer seemed a priority. Victor wasn’t there for Oswald, Oswald was there for Victor. Victor’s pleasure, Victor’s entertainment, Victor’s use. It had been a game after all. A game that Victor won all too easily.

It occurred to Oswald briefly that he’d mentally set himself up as a participant, but no, he’d always been the ball in this game. He’d always been Victor’s toy. The thought was strangely appealing.

Victor fluctuated between hard and shallow paces. At times he was relentless and Oswald feared he might be pushed over the edge, and then for minutes on end, Victor would be practically still inside of him, reveling in the moment perhaps. Occasionally during his more static motions, Victor would lean down and put his mouth over Oswald’s neck once more, biting just lightly. The mouthing started brief and innocuous, but after a few times, Victor lingered. There was no pressure behind his teeth, but as the seconds passed Oswald felt warm fluid drip from his lips and down his neck.

Now, being held down and used hadn’t fazed Oswald. Being scratched and bitten had been easy to take. The sensation of Victor slavering down his neck, however, had him shivering right away. He squirmed and tried to crawl forward without a thought. His efforts drew a growl from Victor, who clamped down with his teeth and pinned one of Oswald’s arms. Oswald tried to twist himself in either direction to shake Victor off, but to no avail. He was still pinned and Victor’s teeth remained in place. Victor was just moodier than before, if his increased growling was any indication.

His erection wasn’t deterred in any case. It was straining worse than ever, in fact. Oswald wasn’t going to be able to keep it together much longer.

“Victor…” he breathed, making to glance back.

Like clockwork, Victor’s mouth was off him and his other hand came up to shove Oswald’s head back down. He grunted at the impact, but the cool concrete was welcome against his hot skin. 

From there, Victor set about hammering into him without remorse. He wanted to shout at him to let up for just a second, but anything he could have said got caught in his throat. It felt too good to speak. Too much all at once. Victor was overstimulating him intentionally, he knew, using all their prior experience together to push him. It was hardly a surprise when the telltale sparks of electricity shot from his brain down to his loins all at once.

“I- I-” he tried once again to no avail. Too little, too late.

With a long moan, Oswald let go and felt his orgasm surge through him. The tight, tingly sensation lasted for only several seconds before he went limp. Victor picked up the slack straightaway, rearing up to keep Oswald’s hips up and using that same leverage to move both their hips together. Oswald whimpered at the continued assault on his prostate. Spent as he was, every touch was magnified in its effect. He wanted to try to squirm away once more, but he had no energy left to even make the effort. All he could do was lay there and let himself be used.

It went on for what felt like hours more, Victor’s constant, harsh in and out motions. How the hell did he get so much stamina? It was like fucking a machine. And to some degree that was exactly what he was doing. He was letting a living, breathing killing machine have his way with him. Might as well invite a shark into bed at the rate they were going.

Finally, finally, Victor’s thrusts grew frantic and hurried. His growls became snarls as he chased his orgasm before becoming an outright roar as he spilled deep into Oswald. It was over at last. Victor chuffed lightly as he caught his breath and softened inside of him. He lingered for a good minute before finally pulling out, leaving Oswald with that familiar empty feeling. He couldn’t say he was disappointed, though, just incredibly tired. Sleep would be very welcome after all this.

Victor took it upon himself to pull both of their pants back up, despite any sticky mess left on them. Once that was done, he gathered Oswald up into his arms for a heartfelt embrace. Oswald welcomed it easily, loosely arranging his arms around Victor and resting his head on Victor’s shoulder. It was always nice, having someone bigger and stronger than him to lean on after sex. Even if their entire exchange before that moment had been entirely rough and wild.

“I win,” Victor sing-songed into Oswald’s ear, playful and seemingly oblivious to all the terror and shameless arousal he’d instilled in Oswald, like a child who had just won a game of tag. 

“So you have, yes,” Oswald confirmed with a breathless giggle.

“You wouldn’t have lasted long, if I’d meant to kill,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“That’s- that’s exactly what I count on. You’d hardly be the best of the best if you couldn’t kill me at any time.”

“I wouldn’t be. And I could.” Victor leaned back to touch their foreheads together, despite the uneven angle. “But I don’t want to.”

Oswald had to smile at that. It was surreal, to be coveted by someone he’d been so terrified of. To be desired by perhaps the most dangerous person he’d ever known. It was insane, it was unwise, it was counterproductive oftentimes, but it was a roller coaster he’d ride to the very end. Just as Victor always did, Oswald was going to do what he wanted to do for once.

“And that’s why I count on you, Victor.”

Victor’s dark eyes lit up for just a moment and he smiled without flashing his teeth. Such a stark contrast to his usual toothy glares. Oswald couldn’t help but to lean in and steal their first and only kiss of the night. He was very glad he’d made this suggestion.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to finish this for a couple months now. I am incredibly relieved to finally have it out the door.
> 
> I took a lot from things like Alien, The Thing, and even a bit of Extra-Terror-estrial Encounter for this. Much of the time while I was writing this, I pictured Victor as a huge, predatory xenomorph type creature, stomping around and looking for its next meal. And maybe I watched a few videos of sharks flying out of the water after prey. I hope that mood comes across.


End file.
